Alienated
by Adnesle
Summary: Usual disclaimers. Don't archive without my permission. Season three-ish. Summary: Zo'or comes to terms with what he has no that Humans waste.


ALIENATED  
  
  
  
January 20th, 2013  
  
St Mary's Psychiatric Institute – For Children  
  
  
  
The reception was boring, as ususally were virtually every events he had been invited to participate to. He could not indentify the reason why the Humans liked so much to be surrounded by this thick mass of individuals they refered to as a crowd. The space below him was frantically crowded by people, some were embrassing each other in strange ways, their arms laced together, their feet moved in a rhythm that had to be tied to the musical patern difused in the air. It was called dance, or so he recalled. But then, Humanity was one amongst so many. English was one of the thousands of language he had had to learn the perfect mastery of as a diplomat. Humanity was a droplet of saline water in the ocean. And Humans were aliens to him, as much as all other forms of life the Taelons had met.  
  
Da'an was, as he had heard many Humans say, quite social. Zo'or on the other hand was not, very not, in fact. He had never liked Earth events, prefered the quietness of the mothership, orbiting in silence many thousands of kilometers upper to the atmosphere, closer to its satellite than to the planet itself.  
  
On Earth, in this moment, it was he that felt to be an alien. It should not be. Taelons should be respected everywhere they went. But here, amongst this crowd of people, his protector having left his side for the attention required by much more useful duties he had to care after, Zo'or felt terribly alone, and the weight of his alieness amongst Humans was growing on his shoulders.  
  
He had often wondered how could his parent stand to be in their company. To let them come so close to his physical persona had to be much more than disturbing. Implants' present was bearable. They could control their minds, their thoughts and more importantly, their CVI allowed them to control their energy paterns, which, as they knew, could easily trouble or harm a Taelon. The human energy matrix was not very far from undeveloped, but it was still existant, to its brutal, primary state, which was the more dangerous things amongst all. For the Taelons that is. It could disturb their own energy waves if they came to leave their shields down, and their pathways unprotected. It had proved fatals to many Taelons, at the very beginning of the humano-taelon relations, a fact that, of course, no Humans had had to know about. No Humans but for the first generation of implanted mankind members, whom CVIs had been charged with a superior degree of assurance their scientist had called the protectional imperative, or PI. Which his own implant had one day been directed by. Da'an had ordered its suppression after an incident with his implant – Agent Sandoval at this time – had confirmed to him that this protectional imperative induced nothing less than torture in the submitted mind. An incident that today both Sandoval and his parent refused to communicate the details' of to him – one pretending that due to his prior CVI's breakdown followed by the re- implantation prevented him from remembering what had this incident consisted of, and the other saying that it was of no matter to Zo'or whether of not he knew itm – an answer that was more than immensely frustrating to receive for a Synod Leader.  
  
His thoughts were driven away by the sudden irruption of noise – applause they were called, he believed – coming from below, on the floor dance, as he was himself standing at the balcony, with a few other people which had prefered this calmer retreat, to take a quiet sip of red wine/lemonade (respectively) as were currently doing his protector and Da'an's. Zo'or's eyes narrowed. Should Liam Kincaid not be accompanying Da'an ? He dismissed the thought instantly, recalling some very violent arguments he had heard his parent and his protector having about their… friendship relation being broken. Kincaid's behavior also had changed in the past few weeks to a more – … one and a half year ago when Major Kincaid had come to the Companions, he would have said a more respectful attitude toward Da'an, today, knowing how close they used to be, he refered to this lack of contact as unexpected coldness. Not that he had much experience in human contact, both physical and unprofessional ones, such as a developing friendship. Agent Sandoval was the only Human he could stand the presence of beyond the time of a few hours a day, time which he used to spend on the bridge and then necessarily in the presence of a bunch of human volunteers not all of them implanted. And this particular Human was not exactly what would Zo'or have described as open and talkative. Both did not like to talk about themselves, both did not like others, of their kind or not, both understood that the means justify the ends : they were getting along well. And in this lack of relationship had almost developed one relationship of silence and mutual respect. Yes, the respect was mutual. Zo'or knew that if Sandoval's loyalties were not only devoted to his only persona anymore, the Human still held him in a respect high enough not to get rid of him. And after years of working side by side with Ronald Sandoval, the Taelon had learned to esteem his work for its excellence, mostly, and then he had respected the Human for the incredible intelligence and obedience he showed. He was the only Human Zo'or had ever come to respect, he should be proud of it… if ever he came to know it, which, Zo'or would ensure it, Sandoval would never ever do.  
  
The evening was growing in dumbness as the music tempo slowed down and the lights' degree disminished, leaving only the dance floor correctly illuminated. Slow dance. After Da'an had told him exactly what it was matter of – both officially, what Humans described it as, and officiously, what DID really occur during its execution – Zo'or had sworn to himself never to participate in one and if possible never to participate in one.  
  
As he looked downways, he observed that Da'an's informations about this had been quite accurate. He remarked that many of the men invited the remaining women to dance, that many of the women waited for men to ask her to dance. As the couples that were already formed moved sideways in their dance and out of the shining rays of light cupping the designated dancing area, for continue their far more intimate than 'dancing' type of ministrations. If they wished to mate, why did not they move OUT of other people's sight ? Zo'or would have sighed in exasperation, had he had lungs. Exhibitionism was considered an horrible crime amongst Taelons, in a society where the only thought of touching in public was prohibited in most cultures, the concept of mating on the public place was complete aberrant for him. As Agent Sandoval had once clearly expressed his thoughts on the subject, they should get a room...  
  
Da'an climbed up the stairs, coming back on his level. He was exhausted, had played his diplomatic games for the whole evening. They had been effective, as always Da'an's mild seducting voice could be, but had left his parent drained in a way that was almost pitiful for another Taelon to contemplate.  
  
This dance seemed to be very displeasant. Or would have been for a Taelon. This whole bodily contact. And the female constantly at the male's mercy, constantly also used by the male. (In the crowd were many men who were way more aged than their female partner, whom usually were not their assigned wives.) His experience in Pierce's body had been far too short for him to recall the feel of a human body – a male. Perhaps was it pleasant for Humans to be embrassed to thightly to each other ? It did not seem so.  
  
Zo'or was now receiving feelings from the mass of human females – a great amount of nervousness, increasing with each seconds passing. And another kind of feeling from the human males – sexual impulsions. This last one from a very fewer number of the females also. But it was frightening, what were the men prepared to do with the women.  
  
It was far more preferable to leave before it became an orgy of feelings merging into these purer ones of the commonality and troubling the Taelons' peace of mind. Da'an remained alone, slightly bent over the board of the balcony as Zo'or determinedly left. His parent's protector already had taken with him his… if he recalled well the word employed was girlfriend, though a much less respectful one has been previously used by Miss Palmer in jealousy that had been as much obvious to all as it had gone oblivious to the most concerned one. They had both left, leaving behind Sandoval who did not seem to mind very much for the departure of his colleague. The man was quietly sipping from a recently filled glass of wine.  
  
It was approaching eleven PM by now. Night was quite advanced by now, dark and moonless. Wishing to leave the place where the mass' feelings were becoming erratic, Zo'or only walked forward, not looking at which doors he pushed and which passages he walked through. The ka'atham had rendered him extremely sensible to the perception of others' feelings. Even Humans. At the moment, he should have rather said, especially Humans.  
  
When his mind felt calm enough again, he was in front of a large door, upper to which was marked : Wing D – Seriously Affected Children. And below this first, naming line, written in red, a smaller panel said : Some of the patients of this area might be dangerous and their contact could influence some visitors on psychological levels this hospital cannot afford the responsibility of. Thank you for your care.  
  
Zo'or bent his head slightly, looking through the small, square window pierced in the thick metal door. Behind it was a long corridor sided by doors, regularly opening on each walls, no one facing the other. They were strangely distant. Almost each of them was more than five meters apart from the other on the facing wall. As if one had wanted for one not to be able to see the other doors by looking through the small window present in the upper part of all doors. It looked like curiously arranged chambers. Containing children if he had correctly read the panel upward. Children suffering from mental diseases, he connected. He was after all in a psychiatric hospital. Why lock children in separated rooms ? Why lock them away when they owned to be treated and healed ? Taelons had techniques to heal about all mental diseases present on Earth.  
  
The Synod Leader slowly pushed the door open, slower than a Human ever could. It took it more than one whole minute to turn on itself and let him access the inside part of the so-called Wing D. But his patience was rewarded as its opening went completely unnoticed, as did his entering inside this section of the hospital. There was an office, lights were turned on inside, but there was no one to be seen. He supposed the ones that were assigned here had prefered to leave their posts and to attend the party rather than take care of what they had been charged with. The corridor was a dead end. At its extremity there was a small window giving a view of a less building-people part of the city. Yet the view was not very agreable to watch. It was grey, black as it was night, the only lights visible being flashing neons inciting to debauche and advertising, or the red, orange or white lights of the cars circulating five floors below, in the street.  
  
On each sides of the corridors, in each walls were pierced six holes containing six doors. All were sufficiently distant of each others. Even more in fact than Zo'or had suspected in looking through the square window of the main door. As much as he moved in a dark and desert corridor he felt watched. Often he turned on himself, spun on his heels, attempting to see whomever was making him feel watched.  
  
Then only, he fully realized that there was an inhabitant to each of these separate cells. On the doors were pinned sheets of paper, with lines covered in hand-writing that at some place he was barely able to read. Name : it was often too badly written for him to understand. Gender : F or M. Age : the average was around ten years old. Parents authorization : a simple check-box, rarely occupied. Medical take-over : this one's matching check-box was as much often checked as the previous one was not. The rest was a list of prescription, medecines, most of were painkillers, or tranquilizers. Drugs that were not made to heal but to hide the disease until the patient died from it, a fact that had greatly repulsed many of their scientists at their arrival on Earth. Such treatments were acceptable when humanity did not possess the science to heal their patients, and could then only disminish the symptoms of the disease from the greater good of the one affected by it. But now that they could easily have healed with taelon techniques most of the disease listed here, and if not lighten greatly the symptoms, specifically easily for children so young, now that Humans HAD the techniques to heal and did not employ it, it was no longer acceptable.  
  
Glancing through the windows as he walked by, Zo'or saw many children sleeping, most of them in fact were, even if their sleep was agitated and artificial. Others were not sleeping, but bound to their beds with thick restrains, and stared, their eyes wide open and their breathing fast, at the celling, their faces showing their tiredness, and their whole body screaming its fight against the medecine they had been given. But they would eventually surrender.  
  
Zo'or did not realize how much was his façade fading away as he kept walking, perhaps out of morbid curiosity, perhaps out of disgust for this abominable treatment. Ones who did not care for their children, to the point of submitting them to this horrible fate, were not worth to have children. He would have cared and he could not have children. He would have taken care of his child, but he would never birth any infant. And these… Humans were allowed to reproduce and multiplicate their species over and over, while they abandonned their children when they felt they were not sufficient.  
  
Horrified, Zo'or stopped at one door : in the bed the little girl was not sleeping nor was she restrained. She was sitting on her heals, her short brown hair ruffled, her hands and thin arms thrown around her knees that were joined on her chest. Her head bent down on her knees she was looking at the door, her lips moving, she was saying something that Zo'or could not hear, sometimes she closed her eyes. The Taelon looked down at the sheet on the front of the door. She was placed under sedative, she was told to be violent. The disease she suffered from was not in itself dangerous but her temper had had her transferred in this area.  
  
Zo'or slowly absorbed the information and jumped at the sudden physical contact on his lower arm. "You shouldn't be here." Sandoval's voice. The Synod Leader re-assumed the mildly-serene mildly-severe look he often greeted his implant with and waited for the Human to release his arm, only with the pressure of his eyes on him. In other times, this small part of himself would have appreciated Sandoval's worry and concern. But at this moment it was merely a more annoying fact, as Sandoval's behavior was, most of the time. Annoying.  
  
"Why do your kind believes that by locking these disease-suffering children away and by drugging them asleep with tranquilizers you will manage to heal them ?" Zo'or's first shown surprise, and mild disgust was now slowly morphing into anger. Anger at what these Humans who were gifted with the ability to produce children made of them, when his kind was sterile. And in anger, he wanted to humiliate, through this humiliation to receive answers. Agent Sandoval was the only one available, sadly for him.  
  
"Taelon techniques can heal this today, but their cost is extremely high Zo'or. Many patients have to wait to be treated. The fact that they're children doesn't mind to much." A practical answer, in response to Zo'or question. But clearly, as Sandoval prefered to look anywhere but in the Taelon's eyes, he also was somehow touched by this.  
  
"It is sad," finally said the head of the Synod. "Sad to see what Humans do with their capacity to produce children. You will know how precious they are only when you will lose them."  
  
  
  
END 


End file.
